The big old bullocks walking down the red and dusty 
track
Far from the coast and the city lights in the heart of 
the great outback
And close behind on a big bay horse astride his leather 
throne
Sits a native of Australia, in a land he calls his own.

Though his by birth, the laws of man, have kept him 
from this place
And weeping spirits of the soil kept calling to his 
race,
Though the earth is cold and empty now, since he 
wandered from his home
Where is our native brother, in this land he calls his 
own.

[Instrumental]

When sacred soil was plundered, and the elders made a 
stand
Their words were left rejected and drove them to the 
sand
sold
Condemned a thousand people, from the land they call 
their own.

[Instrumental]

The land is dead and silent and the white man's hand is 
gone
And the trees and birds have left us, and the more we 
hear their song
Though they've lift the spirit from you and carved you 
to the bone 
We're back to claim our birthright this place we call 
our home,

So big bullocks walking down the red and dusty track
Far from the coast and the city lights in the heart of 
the great outback
And close behind on a big bay horse astride his leather 
throne
Sits a native of Australia, In a land he calls his own.